Denatured
By Adam Morgan
Chapter Three
The chair felt cold under me. All I had was my jacket over my shirt and the
café was freezing. The windows were fully condensed and the bar was
dripping wet from a leak in the roof. The lines of beer pumps stood still,
I could picture the men and women queuing for their drinks, the tables
surrounding by shouting men, the smoke from their cigarettes hanging in the
air like a great smelly carpet. I could see the jukebox in the corner lit
up, playing songs, the small corner reserved for dancing filled with
people. I could still feel the energy of the place. My eyes wandered over
to the smashed bottles that lined the bar's shelf, their fluids long gone.
I curled my legs up onto the chair and wrapped my arms protectively around
them. I looked back around the room, the blinds were motionless, one was
half open, revealing the mist ridden streets, like an unknown sea; it
beckoned me out to explore it. But I knew I couldn't, not after that noise,
that thing that moved the train wasn't human. It must have been a bear or
something; I didn't want to step out into that.
I knew my only chance of getting out was that cop, the phone boxes were
weird and I hadn't seen anyone. Why did he have to leave? I felt so
helpless. I was all-alone and the only comfort I had was a gun, given to me
by a complete stranger. I stood up, my knees weak under my weight, and
stepped over to the table near the door. The gun was matt black, the kind
cops have, a Beretta 9.thingy. I knew I couldn't use it, not knowingly
anyway, but it would be nice to know I had it. I looked at it for a long
time, before placing my hand over the grip. I angled my body round so I
could pick it up. I scooped up the gun, the bridge of my hand fitting
neatly into the sleek shiny curve behind the butt. I wrapped my finger
slowly around the trigger, I instantly lowered the weapon. It felt nice in
my hand; the nervous cop had warmed it for me, which was comforting,
knowing that I wasn't the only one here wetting myself, but still kind of
gross. The metal was still quite cold though, I could feel it surging
through my fingers and bones. The safety was off, I could pull the trigger,
test it out. No. No, I wouldn't need it, I placed the gun violently down,
returning to my seat and curling up again.
For five minutes my eyes fixed on the gun. It had me in a vice, it's power
gripped me, I had heard of this, people going on power trips because of
guns, but I knew I didn't need it, unless something happened. I sat up from
the chair, tearing myself reluctantly away from the gun. I stepped over to
the small corner with the wooden floor and broken lights hanging over it.
The floor was disgusting, I pulled my feet back from it as they began to
get harder to lift from the sticky surface. It was a wooden floor, although
right now I couldn't really tell what it was, there was so much dirt and
old chewing gum on the floor it didn't seem to matter. The jukebox to the
right was dark, hiding the old pages behind the glass. The buttons were now
unrecognisable as the covers for them had worn off, I could vaguely make
out the words, 'Nxt Pae', which I assumed meant next page. I turned away
and set my eyes back on the floor that stretched to the back of the bar. I
tried to make out what the pools were, rippling in between the studs of
chewing gum and mud. They glistened in the dim light of the single bulb
that was still lit above, they were deep and dark and a powerful red.
Surely they weren't? They were, it seemed, bloo.
'Smash!' something exploded trough the window, sending the blinds dancing
on their hooks. Glass showered the floor, digging into my leg. I whipped my
hands up and fell to my knees and looked up to the bar. The mist crept into
the room and the outside cold erupted in, sending a violent chill down my
spine, my eyes settled and I saw something fall from the bar. It squealed
horribly as it hit the floor, knocking over some of the glasses and bottles
that lined the wooden surface. As it fell I could make out a small brown
arm, ripped and torn and covered in scars and scabs. The arm was tiny and
the creature it belonged to made a small noise as it thudded against the
ground. It must have been some kind of animal, but it sounded familiar. It
groaned as it hoisted it self up and yelped as it lurched from behind the
bar round to me. I could hear, like a wooden fence creaking or a foul dog
barking, I could hear it, approaching me. I stood up slowly, and pulled
blindly at some of the glass in my leg as I gasped in fear. I rummaged on
the table behind me for the gun, but I couldn't feel it. I spun on my heels
and saw it, two tables to the left and a door behind the door that led to
the street or an alley of some kind. I could feel the creature smashing
through the glass, rummaging around, looking for me. I grabbed the gun,
taking a brief look at the shattered window and pelted towards the door.
The door exploded open and I burst out, gasping fro breath, into a small
alley that stretched out into the mist clouded streets. To my right was a
dumpster, rotten and putrid, sticking out of the wall next to the door. I
glanced in both directions, there were two exits, both lead out into the
streets I had tried so hard to avoid. But I could still hear that thing,
crawling and lurching in my mind. I had to get out. I cold feel a new
sensation now, I felt.dirty, like I had disgusting animals all over me,
rushing around my body. I contorted, disgusted at the smell of the alley as
it flooded my senses, I ran to my left, almost bouncing off the wall I was
so disorientated. In a few seconds I was out in the street again. The mist
consuming me and the fear of my surroundings disturbing my thought, taking
over my senses. I could once again make out vague shapes that were once
houses, their walls decayed and the windows boarded. I once again realised
the presence of power, I was still holding the gun, by the barrel, dangling
it awkwardly from my fingers. I looked at it, raising it to my stomach and
staring down at it, it looked back. I gripped the barrel and twisted the
weapon round in my hand; I was now holding it ready, both hands tightly
holding the grip. I looked back at the street, the sewers spreading the
rushing sound of water beneath my feet. In the distance, shining through
the mist that shrouded the roads, I could see something familiar, a green
saviour. The green hospital cross.
I had my hand on the door now, the gun tucked firmly behind my back,
covered by my shirt. I had worked out that if there was anyone from the
crash that they would be here, in the hospital. I envisioned my self
stepping in and being welcomed by the people, cared for and placed in a
nice bed and seeing everyone and finding out what the hell had happened.
I felt a glimmer of hope as I pushed the door open but was met only by a rotted reception desk, a dim single bulb and a few metal fold out chairs. The only company I had was my long shadow cast over the floor and into the dark.
***************
I had been sitting on the bed for ten minutes now. I had tried the phone in the reception area and had tired to turn on the lights. I right against the back board, wrapping my arms around my legs and looking out at the other beds and the corridor directly in front of me. The gun lay in front of me, my only hope at the moment until Phil returned. I was about to reach out to hold it again when I heard something, the door's windows had shattered, throwing glass across the reception area. I was two floors up and I could hear it coming. It was the same noise I'd heard before from the tunnel and the café, a horrible lurching sound accompanied by a horrific squeal, a burst of noise from something that was following me. I could hear it approaching, the corridor ahead of me shrouded in dark, only the beds being lit eerily by single bulbs. My legs had unfolded, my arms by my sides, loose with fear, my eyes darting around for an escape. But I was trapped, the only way out was up the stairs or down them, and there was no way I was going to run out to face that thing. I stood up, one hand gripping the bed linen, curling up between my fingers. I could hear it, it was on this floor. I heard another yelp and decided that I had two choices, my mind was racing, it was what, thirty metres away. The dirty tiles showing no reflection and the dark obscuring my view I looked down onto the bed, my hand moved away. I saw the gun, the handle pointing to me, I scooped it up, my two hands holding onto it like a baby. I moved forward, my back pressed against the foot rail of the bed, I could barely stand with cold fear. I raised the gun into the abyss and shut my eyes tight. I pulled the trigger twice, my hand jumping off the gun with shock. The noise was incredible, a group of fireworks exploding in my hand. I heard the click of the shell casing and fired twice more, hitting the ceiling and floor with my one handed shot. I had held the gun away fro my face, pulling myself away from the blasts. The chambers recoil had badly skewed my aim but it was done. I heard a thud as something heavy hit the floor. I watched the smoke rise from the gun as I gasped for air, and lowered the gun.
By Adam Morgan
Chapter Three
The chair felt cold under me. All I had was my jacket over my shirt and the
café was freezing. The windows were fully condensed and the bar was
dripping wet from a leak in the roof. The lines of beer pumps stood still,
I could picture the men and women queuing for their drinks, the tables
surrounding by shouting men, the smoke from their cigarettes hanging in the
air like a great smelly carpet. I could see the jukebox in the corner lit
up, playing songs, the small corner reserved for dancing filled with
people. I could still feel the energy of the place. My eyes wandered over
to the smashed bottles that lined the bar's shelf, their fluids long gone.
I curled my legs up onto the chair and wrapped my arms protectively around
them. I looked back around the room, the blinds were motionless, one was
half open, revealing the mist ridden streets, like an unknown sea; it
beckoned me out to explore it. But I knew I couldn't, not after that noise,
that thing that moved the train wasn't human. It must have been a bear or
something; I didn't want to step out into that.
I knew my only chance of getting out was that cop, the phone boxes were
weird and I hadn't seen anyone. Why did he have to leave? I felt so
helpless. I was all-alone and the only comfort I had was a gun, given to me
by a complete stranger. I stood up, my knees weak under my weight, and
stepped over to the table near the door. The gun was matt black, the kind
cops have, a Beretta 9.thingy. I knew I couldn't use it, not knowingly
anyway, but it would be nice to know I had it. I looked at it for a long
time, before placing my hand over the grip. I angled my body round so I
could pick it up. I scooped up the gun, the bridge of my hand fitting
neatly into the sleek shiny curve behind the butt. I wrapped my finger
slowly around the trigger, I instantly lowered the weapon. It felt nice in
my hand; the nervous cop had warmed it for me, which was comforting,
knowing that I wasn't the only one here wetting myself, but still kind of
gross. The metal was still quite cold though, I could feel it surging
through my fingers and bones. The safety was off, I could pull the trigger,
test it out. No. No, I wouldn't need it, I placed the gun violently down,
returning to my seat and curling up again.
For five minutes my eyes fixed on the gun. It had me in a vice, it's power
gripped me, I had heard of this, people going on power trips because of
guns, but I knew I didn't need it, unless something happened. I sat up from
the chair, tearing myself reluctantly away from the gun. I stepped over to
the small corner with the wooden floor and broken lights hanging over it.
The floor was disgusting, I pulled my feet back from it as they began to
get harder to lift from the sticky surface. It was a wooden floor, although
right now I couldn't really tell what it was, there was so much dirt and
old chewing gum on the floor it didn't seem to matter. The jukebox to the
right was dark, hiding the old pages behind the glass. The buttons were now
unrecognisable as the covers for them had worn off, I could vaguely make
out the words, 'Nxt Pae', which I assumed meant next page. I turned away
and set my eyes back on the floor that stretched to the back of the bar. I
tried to make out what the pools were, rippling in between the studs of
chewing gum and mud. They glistened in the dim light of the single bulb
that was still lit above, they were deep and dark and a powerful red.
Surely they weren't? They were, it seemed, bloo.
'Smash!' something exploded trough the window, sending the blinds dancing
on their hooks. Glass showered the floor, digging into my leg. I whipped my
hands up and fell to my knees and looked up to the bar. The mist crept into
the room and the outside cold erupted in, sending a violent chill down my
spine, my eyes settled and I saw something fall from the bar. It squealed
horribly as it hit the floor, knocking over some of the glasses and bottles
that lined the wooden surface. As it fell I could make out a small brown
arm, ripped and torn and covered in scars and scabs. The arm was tiny and
the creature it belonged to made a small noise as it thudded against the
ground. It must have been some kind of animal, but it sounded familiar. It
groaned as it hoisted it self up and yelped as it lurched from behind the
bar round to me. I could hear, like a wooden fence creaking or a foul dog
barking, I could hear it, approaching me. I stood up slowly, and pulled
blindly at some of the glass in my leg as I gasped in fear. I rummaged on
the table behind me for the gun, but I couldn't feel it. I spun on my heels
and saw it, two tables to the left and a door behind the door that led to
the street or an alley of some kind. I could feel the creature smashing
through the glass, rummaging around, looking for me. I grabbed the gun,
taking a brief look at the shattered window and pelted towards the door.
The door exploded open and I burst out, gasping fro breath, into a small
alley that stretched out into the mist clouded streets. To my right was a
dumpster, rotten and putrid, sticking out of the wall next to the door. I
glanced in both directions, there were two exits, both lead out into the
streets I had tried so hard to avoid. But I could still hear that thing,
crawling and lurching in my mind. I had to get out. I cold feel a new
sensation now, I felt.dirty, like I had disgusting animals all over me,
rushing around my body. I contorted, disgusted at the smell of the alley as
it flooded my senses, I ran to my left, almost bouncing off the wall I was
so disorientated. In a few seconds I was out in the street again. The mist
consuming me and the fear of my surroundings disturbing my thought, taking
over my senses. I could once again make out vague shapes that were once
houses, their walls decayed and the windows boarded. I once again realised
the presence of power, I was still holding the gun, by the barrel, dangling
it awkwardly from my fingers. I looked at it, raising it to my stomach and
staring down at it, it looked back. I gripped the barrel and twisted the
weapon round in my hand; I was now holding it ready, both hands tightly
holding the grip. I looked back at the street, the sewers spreading the
rushing sound of water beneath my feet. In the distance, shining through
the mist that shrouded the roads, I could see something familiar, a green
saviour. The green hospital cross.
I had my hand on the door now, the gun tucked firmly behind my back,
covered by my shirt. I had worked out that if there was anyone from the
crash that they would be here, in the hospital. I envisioned my self
stepping in and being welcomed by the people, cared for and placed in a
nice bed and seeing everyone and finding out what the hell had happened.
I felt a glimmer of hope as I pushed the door open but was met only by a rotted reception desk, a dim single bulb and a few metal fold out chairs. The only company I had was my long shadow cast over the floor and into the dark.
***************
I had been sitting on the bed for ten minutes now. I had tried the phone in the reception area and had tired to turn on the lights. I right against the back board, wrapping my arms around my legs and looking out at the other beds and the corridor directly in front of me. The gun lay in front of me, my only hope at the moment until Phil returned. I was about to reach out to hold it again when I heard something, the door's windows had shattered, throwing glass across the reception area. I was two floors up and I could hear it coming. It was the same noise I'd heard before from the tunnel and the café, a horrible lurching sound accompanied by a horrific squeal, a burst of noise from something that was following me. I could hear it approaching, the corridor ahead of me shrouded in dark, only the beds being lit eerily by single bulbs. My legs had unfolded, my arms by my sides, loose with fear, my eyes darting around for an escape. But I was trapped, the only way out was up the stairs or down them, and there was no way I was going to run out to face that thing. I stood up, one hand gripping the bed linen, curling up between my fingers. I could hear it, it was on this floor. I heard another yelp and decided that I had two choices, my mind was racing, it was what, thirty metres away. The dirty tiles showing no reflection and the dark obscuring my view I looked down onto the bed, my hand moved away. I saw the gun, the handle pointing to me, I scooped it up, my two hands holding onto it like a baby. I moved forward, my back pressed against the foot rail of the bed, I could barely stand with cold fear. I raised the gun into the abyss and shut my eyes tight. I pulled the trigger twice, my hand jumping off the gun with shock. The noise was incredible, a group of fireworks exploding in my hand. I heard the click of the shell casing and fired twice more, hitting the ceiling and floor with my one handed shot. I had held the gun away fro my face, pulling myself away from the blasts. The chambers recoil had badly skewed my aim but it was done. I heard a thud as something heavy hit the floor. I watched the smoke rise from the gun as I gasped for air, and lowered the gun.